


divine intervention

by meevees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Broken Bones, Choking, F/M, Head Injury, I think that covers everything graphic and not so graphic herein, Poison, but there's A LOT of it and it's mostly claude because I enjoy making myself miserable apparently, none of the character death is permanent ofc because byleth, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meevees/pseuds/meevees
Summary: Claude is often looking at her like this, she finds, like she is a puzzle he is desperate to figure out the solution to. Today she suspects he is trying to find some iota of emotion hidden behind her neutral expression, a hint of her response to their recent battle. She knows it would be futile to try telling him that what he is searching for simply isn’t there.Seemingly giving up on that strategy, Claude changes his approach. He puts on his typical sly grin as he speaks, “Geez Teach, you sure are composed for someone who basically just assassinated a political figure in the name of—”Claude never has the opportunity to finish his sentence.~~Or, the more her emotions develop, and the closer she grows to Claude, the harder it gets for Byleth to watch him die.





	divine intervention

The first time Claude dies is the first time any of hers dies.

They are on their mission to quell the rebellion Lord Lonato is stirring in Gaspard. More accurately, they have just completed their mission. Catherine and the rest of the knights are cleaning up, and so the Golden Deer are waiting around before moving out. They’ve all huddle around Byleth, and they are visibly more shaken up than they were after last month’s clash against the bandits.

Objectively, she supposes their emotions are understandable. Killing bandits is straightforward—they operate outside of the law and they selfishly kill others to get what they want. This battle had taken place in much more of a moral gray area, as many of their opponents had been civilians merely caught up in their lord’s agenda. Byleth has the experience to understand one cannot afford to differentiate her opponents this way on the battlefield, and so she had approached this mission with the same detached logic she would any other, but her students have not yet learned this lesson.

Claude, she notices, is the least disturbed amongst them, besides herself. He clearly hasn’t taken any joy in their task this day, but he’s not upset about it the way the others are. This too makes sense to her. From the way he presents himself on the battlefield it is obvious that he already understands the concept of kill or be killed in a way his peers do not; that unlike them he has been living by these words since long before enrolling in the officer’s academy.

He’s standing before her, facing the rest of the group, looking at her appraisingly. Claude is often looking at her like this, she finds, like she is a puzzle he is desperate to figure out the solution to. Today she suspects he is trying to find some iota of emotion hidden behind her neutral expression, a hint of her response to their recent battle. She knows it would be futile to try telling him that what he is searching for simply isn’t there.

Seemingly giving up on that strategy, Claude changes his approach. He puts on his typical sly grin as he speaks, “Geez Teach, you sure are composed for someone who basically just assassinated a political figure in the name of—”

Claude never has the opportunity to finish his sentence. There is a flash of metal followed by a dull _thud_; his words are cut off by a silent, choked gasp and a small spattering of blood escapes his lips in their place. His intelligent, calculating eyes grow instantly dim.

There is a heavy, shocked silence amongst the rest of the deer. Most of them are still confused, but Marianne is the first to realize what has happened. She shrieks and begins an hysterical mantra of “Claude. . . oh, Claude. . .” through choked sobs. This tips off Lysithea, who is the next to scream, and suddenly the entire class is panicking.

Claude’s body begins to fall forward; Byleth catches sight of the handle of the axe lodged into his back, thrown from the cover of the trees a hundred or so yards away, and this is what reminds her that she can do much more for Claude than catch him as he falls.

For the first time she calls on Sothis’s power of her own volition. The very atmosphere around her lurches and she watches in reverse as the panic of the Deer calms and Claude lifts upright again, the light returning to his eyes. The first few seconds after are disorienting, like stepping on land again for the first time after days at sea. She takes a deep breath and rights herself.

Claude is standing before her again, blissfully unaware of the cruel fate that is about to befall him, searching her face for answers. This time his eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise, but Byleth has no time to analyze the change if she wants to actually save his life. Without warning or explanation she seizes him by the shirt with both hands and throws him to the ground beside her. She ignores his shout of surprise, wrenching the bow from Ignatz’s nearby hands and grabbing an arrow out of Claude’s quiver as he falls past her.

Byleth can only admit that she is not as good a shot as Claude. She’s always been better with a sword than with a bow. But she’s no slouch either, and even through the tree cover it’s easy to take aim when she has the benefit of already knowing exactly where her opponent is hiding. She lets loose the arrow just as the axe comes flying through the air in return. There’s a shout as Claude’s would-be assailant falls to the ground from his hiding place in the treetops, arrow pierced just below his shoulder. It isn’t a kill shot, as Claude may have been able to achieve even under such conditions, but the knights are already rushing over in response to all of the commotion. The man is as good as dead now, done in by his own final attempt to avenge his fallen lord.

Her student’s have erupted into chaos again, but this time everyone is unhurt and no one is crying. Lorenz seems more affronted than anything, and he actually scoffs and says, “Honestly, the nerve. To just toss a noble brutishly to the ground in such a manner. . .”

“Yeah, I’m really not about to complain about it.” Claude quips back, although the laugh he lets out is nervous and a little breathless. He is staring in mild horror at the axe, stuck in the ground in the very spot he’d been standing not a moment before. He has righted himself enough that he is sitting upright, but he does not seem to have found the strength to stand again just yet, and Byleth sees him ball his hands into fists to hide the fact that they are shaking.

There is a chorus of questions and compliments from the rest of the Deer at that point, so Claude gets a moment to compose himself. Once he has he gets to his feet and brushes himself off. When he turns toward Byleth his mouth is smiling, but his eyes are giving her that look again.

“Thanks, Teach. That’s twice you’ve saved my skin now. If you keep swooping in to save me like this, I may never be able to repay my debt to you. But . . . how in the world did you do that?” There is awe in his voice, as there had been in all of the others’, but it is a thin mask for the real intention of his words. Scrutiny. He understands that what she has done should be impossible, and therefore is suspicious. Ironically, though there’s actually an answer to the question he is silently asking this time, she knows he will still never find it.

“I told you, didn’t I? Never let your guard down on the battlefield, even if you believe the fight is over.” She had in fact given a lecture on this topic just the week before, though today’s events had probably taught her students that lesson in a way she could never achieve in the classroom. Claude nods solemnly; she can see he is not satisfied with this answer, but it seems he is resigned to accepting it for now.

And yet, she had not heeded her own words, had she? Perhaps she should have been able to save Claude the first time, or at least reacted to the attack. But she’d been so caught up in observing him she had not even seen it coming until it was too late.

She obviously has not learned _her_ lesson, because even as things settle down and the Golden Deer disperse to begin preparations for their return to Garreg Mach, her thoughts are still consumed by Claude. Specifically she is thinking of the one thing that changed when it should not have, because Byleth herself had not changed anything yet.

Claude had been searching her face for emotions, and this time he had seen something. Something she hadn’t even known was there.

* * *

It happens again at Conand Tower.

Sylvain runs forward to confront Miklan, and while this is their mission Byleth also understands that it’s _his_ fight, so she allows it. She keeps close enough to be ready to intervene if necessary, but gives him the space to do what he needs to do. Claude seems to sense this is her intention, because he stops beside her and doesn’t press forward. She can feel him radiating the nervous energy of wanting to do something more, but he respects the unspoken barrier that she has set.

Sylvain does not need their help against Miklan, but watching his brother transform into the horrible Black Beast leaves him paralyzed. He is still as a stone atop his horse, frozen directly in the line of fire as the creature tears through former friend and foe alike.

Claude is the first to react. He rushes forward, calling out to Sylvain in an attempt to get his attention.

When that strategy is not immediately effective Claude is at least smart enough to not waste any more time on it. Still, he’s put himself in an impossible situation. The few bandits that haven’t been devoured or crushed are already fleeing and Claude stands essentially alone with his bow raised in front of Sylvain’s horse. He is ready to defend his teammate but no one, not even Byleth, is close enough to get to them in time to defend _him_.

The Black Beast rears up on its hind legs and lets out a terrifying roar as it swipes a wide arc in front of it with a foreleg. It catches Claude right in his midsection. The blow alone is probably enough to break bones, but even worse the force of it sends him flying through the air and slamming against the far wall of the stone tower; Claude’s head jerks back from the impact and is the last thing to hit the wall with a terrible _crack_.

His body falls to the ground, mangled and limp like a ragdoll. Already Byleth sees blood pooling beneath his head. She does not wait for the other Deer to react this time.

Time rewinds, and Miklan is transforming into the Beast again. Sylvain is still freezing up, but as Claude moves to rush forward in aid Byleth puts a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him, “Claude, wait.”

“But Sylvain will—” He rounds on her as he begins to speak, but his protest dies on his tongue as their eyes meet. His expression softens, “Teach, what’s the matter?”

Byleth does not understand his question, or the sudden concern in his eyes. But she cannot contemplate it now, because while she has saved Claude she still must act or Sylvain will certainly be next.

This time Byleth darts ahead in Claude’s place. She goes right for Sylvain’s horse and smacks it on the rear flank.

Sylvain’s horse whinnies and rears; Sylvain has no choice but to snap back to reality as he works to right himself and stay mounted. He does, and quickly regains control of his horse.

“Fall back!” Byleth orders, and Sylvain does not hesitate, yanking his reins and racing back to where Claude is still waiting for Byleth’s word to proceed. The Beast prepares to swipe its foreleg again, but Byleth swings the Sword of the Creator and it extends to meet the attack halfway. The Beast’s leg is deflected and the roar it lets out is not aggressive, but pained.

Now the creature is stunned and when Byleth gives the signal with her arm Sylvain and Claude are able to join the assault without immediate fear of counterattack, quickly followed by the others.

It pushes them to their limit, but together they are able to fell the Black Beast without casualty.

Without further casualty, rather.

As they begin their march back to Garreg Mach Claude loiters, even when the other students move ahead, chattering away with each other. He is waiting for her, she knows, so she falls in step beside him. She does not probe him, knowing he will say whatever he has to say once he is ready. For the moment he just looks at her, gaze searching as usual, but also showing a hint of worry.

She’s not sure what business Claude has worrying about _her_, when _he’s_ the one who died today, but she can hardly ask as much.

“What happened back there, Teach?” He finally asks, after he has spent what he must feel was enough time trying to puzzle out the answer himself.

In her defense, Byleth genuinely does not understand what he is asking, “You mean Miklan transforming into a monster like that? I don’t know either.”

Claude shakes his head, “If you’re going to try to dodge the question, you’ll have to do a bit better than that. I’m not talking about Miklan, I’m talking about _you_.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

He takes a deep breath before he continues. She can tell he’s frustrated, probably thinks she is being intentionally obtuse as he always does, but there’s not much she can do about it because as always she’s really being completely matter-of-fact with him, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you stopped me from charging headfirst into fighting that thing. But what made you do that? Something was wrong, right?”

“I—no, nothing in particular.” Now she is being obtuse, and that’s not what she wants. She can hardly tell him the truth, though, so instead she settles on, “I was just worried about what might happen to you if you rushed in to fight it all by yourself.”

Claude looks dubious at first, but by this point in their relationship he’s learned he doesn’t have much choice but to accept the explanation that she gives him, “If you say so. You just looked so sad. It was like . . . Well, I don’t even know what it was like, because I’ve never seen you look like that before.”

That revelation comes as a shock to Byleth. She doesn’t even know what to say.

* * *

When Byleth returns after five years, Claude has grown stronger, more sure of himself. He is a force on the battlefield, every bit the Master Tactician that others have proclaimed him. Byleth rarely has to worry about him in combat, but he does meet his end again at Fort Merceus.

Byleth vehemently opposes Claude’s intention to enter the fort separately from the rest of the troops. It seems like a suicide mission, and she desperately tries to disallow him on following through, but he is insistent and assures her he will be fine. When the Almyrans arrive she realizes she should have known he had something up his sleeve all along. Claude isn’t afraid to take risks, but he was never one to be needlessly reckless.

Still, Byleth cannot shake her nerves completely. As she is able to, she makes her way across the battlefield in his direction, cautious not to thoughtlessly abandon the rest of her Deer.

She soon discovers she has been too cautious. She hears a cry from the north, someone shouting “No!” and while she’s only ever spoken to him once, it is easy to recognize the booming sound of Nardel’s voice. Byleth begins to panic, knowing there are few scenarios that could cause the man such anguish, and that most if not all of them involve Claude.

She dashes in the direction the shout came from. As she is closing the distance between them she sees Nardel furiously tearing through the all of the enemy soldiers in his vicinity. By the time she reaches them he has crouched down to take Claude into his arms, a trail of corpses in red and black armor scattered in his wake.

Claude is not dead yet, but there is no hope for this timeline. It is an arrow that will be his undoing this time. It has pierced his throat, left him gasping frantically, a futile attempt to get enough oxygen into his lungs. He is suffocating.

His wyvern lays on the ground a short distance away. She, too, has been hit; the arrow tore through her left wing. She is shrieking and crying out in agony, perhaps not just from her injury but also the sense that her master’s life is slipping away before her.

“Come on Kiddo, you can’t just die on me now.” Nardel’s voice is choked, his shoulders shaking as he cries openly right there on the battlefield. It’s what makes Byleth realize that she is crying as well.

Claude is looking at her. He tries to call out of her, but without air all he can manage is to soundlessly mouth the single word, “Teach.” He reaches out for her instead, hand shaking violently as he extends it in her direction, but she is too far away to take hold of it before his arm falls limply to his side.

Nardel curls in on himself, clutching Claude’s body even closer. But Byleth has no time for grief.

“What happened?” She’d only seen the aftermath, and she needs to know from the beginning if she is going to be able to stop it.

Her determination must echo in her voice, because Nardel seems to find his again as well. He sits up straighter, and the fire has returned to his eyes, although they still hold a sadness as well.

“There was a sniper. On top of that building there.” Nardel points to a small structure to the south. Byleth sees the soldier in question. He has fallen from his place atop the low wall, also shot by an arrow in the chest, right over his heart. Claude apparently had managed to take his attacker with him, if nothing else, “He was hidden behind the bastion, it was impossible to see him until it was too late.”

Byleth nods. This information is more than enough. She does not bother saying anything to Nardel, as she knows there is nothing to be said in moments like these, and because the words will soon be erased regardless. She turns back the hands of time.

She is back in the middle of the town, still a good distance away from Claude. The small turret where she now knows the sniper is hiding is between them, and this works in her favor. She takes off at a run in the direction of the structure. She calls out to Claude as she does, calling his name at the top of her lungs.

Claude does an about face in the air to look in her direction, so now he sees the arrow coming at him. He deftly directs his wyvern to dodge it, although he does not seem able to identify where the attack came from yet.

It makes little difference, because Byleth knows and she has already reached the turret. She rushes full speed up the stairs, raising the Sword of the Creator above her head as she goes, and brings it down across the sniper’s back before he even has a chance to realize she is there.

Later, much later—after the javelins of light have fallen, Nardel has been revealed as Nader, and they’ve all returned to Garreg Mach and talked of the future—Claude finds her in the Cardinal’s Room.

She hadn’t realized she had anything to say to him, but when he walks up and puts his hand on her shoulder she suddenly finds herself unloading on him, “How could you be so stupid?!”

Claude is taken aback. It’s a reasonable reaction, seeing as he has no way of knowing what she is talking about. As far as he is concerned, the incident with the sniper never even happened. He must be a saint, because despite being yelled at for no obvious reason his surprised expression melts into a grin, “I’m . . . sorry?”

“I’m serious!” Byleth snaps, but she too is unsure what he’s done wrong in spite of how angry she feels. Even in her reality, where Claude’s death can never be truly erased, he hadn’t done anything particularly foolish or reckless. It had just been a bad turn, the same risk any soldier takes stepping onto the battlefield. But she hasn’t been able to shake the unease she has felt ever since she saw him dying in Nader’s arms, even now that he is standing before her, obviously no worse for the wear. “You can’t be taking unnecessary risks on the battlefield. Too many people are relying on you. The other Golden Deer, the alliance, everyone needs you. I . . . I . . .”

There is an unfamiliar sort of anticipation in Claude’s eyes, and he almost sounds like he’s holding his breath as he speaks, “You what, Teach?”

“Please,” Byleth starts again, and she is surprised by the shaky sound of her own voice, “Please. Stay close. Don’t go where I can’t protect you.”

For a long moment, Claude just smiles at her, fond but also somehow melancholy. Tentatively, he reaches out and takes her hand in his, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that’s not a promise I can make right now. But I’ve got a lot of dreams to accomplish, so dying’s definitely not on the table. And if I do have to go, I’ll always come back to you as soon as I can. That _is_ a promise.”

Somehow, even though she knows his determination isn’t nearly enough to keep him safe from death, his words are reassuring. She gives his hand a squeeze.

* * *

After the war, it takes a while for Byleth to settle into the truth that her former students are safe. After all, the years have taught her that being out of combat is not enough to truly mean a person is safe. Sometimes it is that very illusion of safety that makes things even worse. She had once watched Caspar valorously fight an army of his own family and former countrymen when Randolph had marched on their new base at Garreg Mach, only to choke on a pheasant bone at dinner the very same night. His death had been brutal to witness, but even worse had been Linhardt’s hysterical desperation as he tried and failed to resuscitate him. So even as a peace is reached and her Deer all go back to their old lives, or set out to build new ones, Byleth cannot help but remain on alert.

Claude’s time away particularly is agonizing. She is hyper aware of his existence across the border, nearly on the other side of the world. If something were to happen to him she would be powerless to save him, wouldn’t even know until far too late.

When they are finally reunited, it’s like she can breathe again for the first time in what feels like ages. Claude is surprised when she throws herself into his arms after the battle, far more openly affectionate that she has ever been, but he simply embraces her in return.

But before long, as Byleth settles into her new life as queen with Claude at her side, she does let her guard down. It is a choice she nearly comes to desperately regret.

They’re having a party at the palace in Derdriu. Out of necessity, Byleth has grown much more accustomed to these sorts of events in her time as queen, although they still make her weary. Claude doesn’t care for them any more than she, but his charisma makes him much better at hiding it than she is, so she usually relies on him to take care of the requisite political mingling.

Tonight, however, she and Claude have been separated by the crowd. It has been some time since she caught sight of him milling about amongst their guests. For her part she has been drawn in by a minor noble, who had begged a dance of her and is now bending her ear about the state of affairs in the Faerghus territory.

She is unaware that anything is wrong until the screaming starts. The chaos makes it challenging for her to push through the crowd. Even worse, people seem to be intentionally trying to slow her progress, so her pulse is already pounding in her ears, her stomach already dropping, by the time she finally reaches the space the crowd has gathered around.

Even though she had expected it, she is not prepared for the sight of Claude’s body, prone and lifeless on the ground. He shows no sign of injury, but there is blood on his lips and staining the front of his shirt. Poison? It seems absurd to imagine Claude would ever allow such a fate to befall him, but perhaps she is not the only one who has grown complacent in peacetime.

People around her are trying to pull her away, they’re speaking to her as well, but their voices are muffled and sound very far away, and she does not comprehend what they are saying. It hardly matters regardless. Byleth may still be uncertain about the finer details of how Claude has died this time, but of course she cannot allow it to stand.

Now she is back on the other side of the room, the noble beside her chattering away once again.

She does not offer him an explanation as she abruptly walks away from him. She can hear his offended scoff as she does, but she is singularly focused on getting to Claude.

This turns out to be more difficult than expected. The crowd is slow to move out of the way, and she has to weave in and out of the path of dancing couples. On top of that, others are constantly vying for her attention as she passes them by, trying to stop her and draw her into conversation.

Finally she has Claude in her sight again. His eyes meet hers and his whole face lights up, then quickly settles into confusion as he must see her urgent concern. It doesn’t matter though, because even as he’s asking, “Is everything alright, By?” he’s already taking a sip of his drink.

His awareness that he has made a mistake is immediate, but it is too late. His eyes widened, and his breaths start to come in shallow gasps. She rushes to close the space between them, and he clings to her as he gags and retches, coughing up blood all over them both.

The screaming has begun again, so the guests around them must have realized what is happening. Byleth pays them no mind, wholly focused on Claude. He spends his last few seconds looking at her pleadingly before he slumps into her arms.

She doesn’t realize she has rewound time again until she is suddenly dancing with the same noble from before. She adjusted to the disorienting nature of her powers long ago, but this time she has caught herself off guard so she stumbles, missing her step in the dance. The scene around her is blurry and at first she thinks it is a new side effect of her powers, until she realizes it’s because her vision is clouded by the hot tears pooling in her eyes.

Her partner is glaring at her for ruining their dance, but she does not apologize as she barrels away from him yet again.

She hadn’t saved Claude. She’d known where he was, could anticipate what was about to happen, but she still had not been able to save him. This has only happened once before, but she can’t stand to think of that now.

Subconsciously she has brought herself back earlier than before, so she decides to try a different approach. She knows now that it was certainly the poisoned drink that killed Claude. She must need to stop him from ever getting it in the first place.

But once again this plan is more difficult to execute than expected. She no longer has the benefit of knowing exactly where Claude is, and finding him in the crowd is even harder than getting to him. She ends up unable to do anything at all, swept up by all of the people, and when she hears the screaming she doesn’t even bother seeking out the source again. She already knows that she’s too late.

Byleth feels herself growing hysterical, but she cannot ebb the wave of her emotions. She hears Sothis’s words, spoken so many years ago now, echoing in her mind.

“_If turning back the hands of time was not enough to save his life, you must accept what came to pass was fate_.”

But Byleth simply cannot accept this. She cannot consider that after Claude survived so much, after they saw each other through a war, she will lose him now, like this.

Fate has already taken the person she loved above all others away from her once before. She will not allow it to do so again.

She goes back to her original starting point. She has abandoned any pretense of decorum as she pushes her way frantically through the crowd this time. It must be obvious that something is not right, because people are quickly getting out of her way now, some looking alarmed.

Claude has no time to even react to her arrival. She dashes up and forcefully knocks the drink from his hand without preamble, sending it shattering to the floor.

She doesn’t know if it’s the strain of using her powers so much in rapid succession, or the stress of the situation, or perhaps both, but she suddenly bends over and vomits, gagging and gasping for air even after she has emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Claude takes her by the shoulders, he asks what’s wrong and he sounds completely mystified, but Byleth cannot even find the words to answer him. Instead she stands upright just long enough to collapse against his chest. Her shoulders shake as she sobs.

Vaguely, Byleth hears Claude chuckle awkwardly and say, “Looks like someone’s had a little too much to drink tonight.”

It’s not true, and she knows he knows it, but she has to admit it is a good excuse for the scene she has made.

When he puts his hand on her back she allows herself to be led away. She can hear people murmuring and muttering around them as they pass by, but the rest of the world still feels very far away. It is all overshadowed by the heat of Claude’s hand on the small of her back, the sound of his voice whispering calming words in her ear, the knowledge that he is _safe_.

Claude ushers her into a private room, and guides her into a chair. The confusion must be killing him, because for a beat it seems like he will wait for her to compose herself before asking questions, but before long he can't help himself.

“Hey, what happened back there?”

Byleth’s breathing is even again, her sobbing ceased, although the tears are still running down her face and her thoughts are still scrambled. All she manages to croak out is, “You died.”

Claude does not look any less confused. Why would he? “What?”

“You’re drink was poisoned . . . I didn’t know if I would be able to save you . . . you kept dying . . .”

He crouched down in front of her, taking her hand and pressing it against his cheek so she could feel his warmth again, “By . . . Byleth, look at me. I’m right here. I’m not dead, am I? I’m just fine.”

Byleth shakes her head. He doesn’t understand, of course, because she’s never given him the context to understand. It is the one secret that still exists between them. But it can be a secret no longer, now; Claude is far too clever, and after what he’s seen tonight he will see right through anything less than the truth.

“You’re fine because I changed it. It’s a gift, given to me by Sothis. I can turn back time, just a little. To fix things. When I have to.”

Claude, to his endless credit, never shows a hint of disbelief. She can see his racing thoughts all over his face, and he takes a long time to consider her words before he responds. But when he does he wears a small grin.

“Well, if you were anyone else I would definitely say you were crazy. But when it comes to you, Teach, somehow I’m never surprised to find out that you’re even more amazing and impossible than I thought.”

Byleth cracks the tiniest smile at his words and at his use of her old nickname, which he rarely uses anymore. But the reality of her confession settles in on Claude’s face, the warmth of his expression replaced by something darker, and a little unnerved.

“So I . . . died tonight? And this has happened before?”

Byleth nods solemnly, “To everyone, at least once. But this was different. You kept dying even though I tried to save you several times, and that’s never happened before. Sometimes I can’t change things . . . so I thought—”

She stops, unable to give voice to the thought still even though it hadn’t come to pass.

Claude’s voice is soft, and sad, “That’s . . . I would never have known something had happened. You say all this happened but I don’t remember any of it, never even felt something was off. But you remember all of it, don’t you?”

Byleth looks down to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. Of course she remembers them all, in horrifyingly vivid detail. She wishes she could forget, but this has always been her burden to carry. Now she feels weighed down even further by something much heavier; guilt at having kept such crucial truths about his own life hidden from him, “I’m sorry.”

Claude sounds incredulous, “Why . . . Why would you be sorry? You saved my life. Again.”

“I hid it all from you, even now when we were supposed to be done with secrets. But I was afraid. That if you knew—”

“I would be more aware of my own mortality in battle?” Claude offers.

“Or less,” Byleth adds, “I could never decide which would be worse. Either way, it seemed safer for you not to know.”

“Just another way you’ve been protecting me,” Clause shakes his head, in his voice is a heavy sigh, but he is smiling, “You don’t have to apologize for that, By. I do wish you had told me sooner. But not because I’m upset that you hid it from me. Because that’s an enormous burden for you to have been carrying alone all this time, and maybe I could have helped lighten the load a little.”

Byleth looks into his eyes, her own bright and grateful, “Thank you.”

Claude laughs. Taking her head in both his hands he draws her forward and rubs their noses together. “Seriously, how are you the one that’s thanking me right now? Thank _you_, Byleth. For everything. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty dissatisfied with the ending of this one, since it sort of just. ends. But I'm not sure what to do about it or where else to go, so here it is I suppose. Enjoy!


End file.
